


The Durmstrang Exchange

by OldJadesNeonJoy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alchemy, Bullying, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Comedy, Creative use of magic, Dark Arts, Dark Magic, Duelling, Durmstrang, Exchange Student, Gen, Goblins, Harry Potter Next Generation, Hufflepuff, Intrigue, Mystery, Original Character(s), Pataphysics, Philosophy, Politics, Revolution, Revolutionaries, Transfiguration (Harry Potter), Wandlore (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-10-05 15:04:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17327231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldJadesNeonJoy/pseuds/OldJadesNeonJoy
Summary: Twenty years after the Battle of Hogwarts, a mild-mannered Hufflepuff student is sent on a student exchange to the Durmstrang Institute. There he falls into a world of intrigue, duelling, and revolutionary plotting. The established wizarding order will never be the same again!Read this if:- you want to read an original story set in the HP setting that isn't retreading existing characters and stories- you ever wanted to spend more time in the classroom learning how magic actually works- you like mystery, comedy, and adventureThe work remains faithful to established canon, but invents a lot (especially in terms of the internal workings of Durmstrang). The tone is pitched at about the same level as the later books.Updates roughly weekly.





	1. Unwanted Exposure

Early on a warm September morning, Erebus Flint was on the verge of a breakthrough. He was a boy in his fifth year of schooling at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry. He was rather short for a 15 year old, and had a round faced with tidy brown hair. Hunched in a nook behind a pile of barrels in the Hufflepuff Common Room, surrounded by open books with fold-out diagrams, he was reciting the last element to a spell. He placed a pinch of dried powder of fluxweed upon his tongue.

“ _Altitudinis Paribuso!”_ Erebus incanted, waving his wand with a decisive flick. The end glowed with a soft blue light which he touched against his forehead. He didn’t feel any different than before.

Hopping out from behind the barrel he saw a gaggle of first years playing wizarding roulette with _Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans_.

“Do I look taller to you?” he asked. The first years didn’t seem to think so. This spell was supposed to make him taller. What had gone wrong?

He saw Gavin Harwick enter the common room, the barrel door opening for him. He wore the yellow tie of a prefect and usually stood about a foot taller than Erebus.

As Erebus looked at him, he felt his shirt tighten and his robes lift. In moments he could look straight ahead into Gavin’s eyes.

  
“That’s quite the growth spurt, Flint,” he said, coolly.

“Wait until everyone sees!” cried Erebus as he pushed by him, out to the corridor near the kitchens. The smell of breakfast wafted through and followed him as he ran upstairs to the Great Hall. There the majority of the student body was sitting out on the long tables, eating food summoned from the kitchen below.

Up on the high table, some of the staff had arrived for breakfast, including the Care of Magical Creatures teacher, Rubeus Hagrid. The rumour about school was that Hagrid was half giant, and Erebus could believe it as he stood over eleven foot tall. He was sitting next to the Herbology teacher, Professor Longbottom, famous for his actions in the Second Wizarding War, a few years before Erebus was born.

Erebus hurried up through the centre of the hall, past the lonely spot at the end where he’d usually eat, and climbed up the two steps to the high table.

“Thank you for telling me about the fluxweed, Professor!” said Erebus, interrupting his teacher mid-crumpet.

“Wha’s that about fluxweed?” Hagrid interrupted. “Not making polyjuice potions are we now?”

“No, Professor,” Erebus said quickly. Making oneself look like another would be forbidden magic, but there was nothing in any rules he had heard about making one as tall as others. He met Hagrid’s interrogating gaze and smiled innocently.

It was then that things started to go horribly wrong.

Erebus’s robes started to lift higher. His shirt tightened more and the leather of his shoes dug in to his feet. Before he knew what was happening, his buttons pinged off and his robes tore along the shoulder. This was not the worst of it. He drew up to a full height of well over eleven feet and the seat of his trousers burst asunder. His clothes in tatters Erebus exposed himself to the entire school. The spell did exactly what it had been designed to do in making him as tall as anyone he happened to be looking at.

The hall erupted into laughter as the students began to notice Erebus’s unnaturally huge, mostly bare self standing over them before the high table.

He turned to look at everyone. Slytherin, Griffindor, Ravenclaw and his own Hufflepuff house all laughing alike. And as he looked at them, he shrunk, falling out the last of his clothes. Panicked, before the teachers could help him, he ran naked through the hall past everyone.

Sprinting down to the common room, he hammered on the barrel door to be let in, there he streaked past the first years who caught a glimpse of him as he ran to the dormitories.

There, fully dressed, over-dressed even, he remained all day despite beseeching by Gavin and the other prefects that he was risking points being deducted from the House. When they came in he refused to meet their eyes.

The next day, when he did venture out for lessons, the whispers were unbearable. _Erebutts_ they called him. He became withdrawn. For a week he did no work, became uninterested in spells. He hurried back to the dormitories after his lessons. And each night he cried himself to sleep, replaying the scene over in his mind, each time as excruciatingly embarrassing as the last.

On the eight day of this, Erebus Flint decided he had had enough. He packed his bags with all his possessions: the textbooks he was loathe to depart with (having cost his parents many galleons), his collection of Chocolate Frog Cards, his belt with pouches for spell components and a sealed jar of nurgles (which to all the world looked like an empty jar). He wore black jeans and his mustard house sweater. They felt ill-fitting and he still wasn’t sure that he had shrunk back to the correct size since the spell wore off.

He tucked his slender pine wand into a holster at his hip. Finally, he put on his coat and attempted to leave Hogwarts.

He was on the bridge leading towards the town of Hogsmeade when he heard a voice behind him.

“And just where do you think you’re going, Mr Flint?” It was Headmistress McGonagall. Erebus had always suspected he wasn’t much liked by the headmistress, but then again he suspected he wasn’t much liked by most people.

He turned back to see the old witch, but still averted her gaze.

“I’m going home,” he said. “I can’t be at the school after what happened.”

“Mr Flint, losing one’s clothes in the great hall may be undignified, but it is hardly the end of the world,” McGonagall replied, sternly. “In nine months time everyone will have forgotten all about it.”

“I can’t live with people whispering about me for nine months!” Erebus cried.

The Headmistress considered Erebus for a moment. “There is another option available,” she mused. “But it might not suit a gentle Hufflepuff boy...”

Erebus’s heart rose. “Wh-what would that be?”

“I have been approached by the new Headmistress of the Durmstrang Institute about restarting the old student exchange program. We could send you.”

“YES!” snapped Erebus, before he knew what he was saying.

“Durmstrang is not as warm and inviting a place as Hogwarts,” said McGonagall. “And you would have to study very hard on your return for your OWLs.”

“I can study hard. You know I can study hard, Professor,” he replied. Erebus suspected the only reason he was put in Hufflepuff was for his propensity for diligence. That and because he asked not to be put in Slytherin like his father. Once in Hufflepuff he had not managed to make the firm and loyal friends he had hoped for.

“This isn’t a decision to be taken lightly Mr Flint,” said McGonagall.

“It’s either Durmstrang or back home to the troll stable,” Erebus said decisively.

“In that case,” said McGonagall, “providing we can get permission from a parent then you may go.”

“My bags are already packed!”

And so it was that Erebus Flint, a mild-mannered Hufflepuff, came to be sent to the Durmstrang Institute.


	2. A Meeting At Port

The Durmstrang Institute was located somewhere in northern Europa and, like Hogwarts, could not normally be reached by the normal magical means such as floo powder or portkey. Hagrid had offered to take Erebus on his flying motorbike and so soon Erebus was squeezed in the sidecar with his luggage.

The journal was cold and shaky as the motorbike sped high across the sky. Far below was the ocean, then cold northern mountains and fjords. After some long hours of travel, Erebus was beginning to drift off when, without warning, Hagrid brought the motorbike hurtling through the clouds towards a iced-covered lake. In the centre of the lake was a tiny islet with a pier sticking out of it and a small hut. The bike bumped down heavily on the pier and skidded to a stop across the icy boards.

“Here we are then!” Hagrid said, standing up from the bike and helping Erebus stumble out and find his feet. “And there’s yer case.”

Once all of Erebus’s things were unloaded, Hagrid stood about for a moment awkwardly. “Well, this is where you’ll be waiting for your next ride. They’re right keen on security are Durmstrang.”

“I’ll be fine, really,” said Erebus. “Thank you for taking me this far.”

“Right, that’ll be me then,” said Hagrid, patting his legs and eyeing up his motorbike. “Have a good time now. It won’t be like Hogwarts, tha’s fer sure.”

“That’s what I’m counting on.”

Hagrid took one last look around and mounted his motorbike and with a roar of the engine he sped back along the pier and up into the sky. Soon he was a speck in the clouds.

Erebus was alone. He looked around at the creaking ice, the forested distant shore, and the small hut. The hut was completely open fronted and faced the pier. Inside was a bench which Erebus sat upon. It was cold and so Erebus performed a charm to blast hot air from the end of his wand at himself. That soon grew uncomfortable, so he unpacked and put on some extra layers from his bag and settled in to read to pass the time and ignore the cold.

Erebus was desperately trying to find all references to the Durmstrang in his _A History of Magic_ textbook. He learned it was founded in late 12th century by a witch named Nerida Vulchanova, and he was just beginning to learn about her grisly fate when he heard a voice in front of him.

“God aften. Uh... guten abend?”

Erebus looked up from his book to a see a young woman dressed in blood red robes, a great white fur cloak wrapped her shoulders. She had ghostly pale skin and long, straight blonde hair. She proffered her hand.

“Uh hello. I’m Erebus. Erebus Flint.” he said, shaking her hand uncertainly.

“Ah English? Ja?” she said. “Ditte Blodmane. Pleased to be meeting you.”

She took a seat on the bench and, taking out brilliant red wand, she said, “ _Hjemligøre!”_

Cushions sprouted from the bench beneath Erebus and tapestries unravelled from the rickety wooden walls. A carpet spilled across the dirt floor, and despite the large opening to the outside, the space became warm as if there were a roaring fire before them.

“I don’t recognise your face,” said Ditte. “Are you new to Durmstrang?”

Erebus couldn’t quite place her accent. Or her age. Like a lot of teenage girls he met, he wasn’t sure if she was the same age or much older.

“Yes! I’ve not been yet,” he said. “I’m waiting for the lift. Are you the lift? The... the transport?”

“Oh no. You’ll know it when it comes,” she said. “You’re too old to be first joining. Aha! You were taught at home and then your master was eaten by a dragon? Ja?”

“Uh not quite…”

Ditte took a close look at him, at his house sweater, at his textbook on his lap, at his big case. “You’re from another school. You must be from... Svinvorter, what do you call it...”

“Hogwarts.”

“Ja! Hogwarts. Did they flee you from that place?”

“Flee? Uh...”

“Did they make you go?”

“No, no, I’m just on exchange.” Erebus said, trying to push back the memory of his leaving. He closed his book and packed it away in his bag. As he stood his wand jutted out from his side.

“Is that fir wood?” she asks.

“It’s pine,” said Erebus. “It was my great-great-grandfather’s, he gave it me in his will.”

“Pine… pine…” she rolls the word over her tongue and flicks her wand slowly. “Ah _pine_! You’ll have a _very_ long life ahead of you,” said Ditte. The way she said it made it sound more ominous than necessary. “Ha! Is that, troll?”

“Troll-whisker core. Yes,” said Erebus, defensively. It wasn’t one of the great three noble magical materials used in most modern wand making, but it was a very old wand. He was convinced the wand wasn’t any less powerful than those of his fellow classmates with their unicorn hair, dragon heart-string and phoenix feather cores.

“Now I am thinking you are clever to bring that,” said Ditte, a smile creeping across her face. “No one is wanting to take a troll wand.”

Erebus frowned and covered up his wand beneath his coat once more. As much to change the subject, he blurted out, “what are you doing here anyway? Hasn’t term already begun?”

Ditte turned to look out across the frozen waters, her face set with an inner determination. “I was demoted too far. I’ve won the right to return now. They will see.”

No sooner had she spoken as the ice began to crack across the ice and mermaid figurehead burst forth from the waters below. Slowly, uncannily, the ship emerged from the water, like a ship wreck in reverse. The sails were in tatters, the masts bent, and ethereal lights glowed from the portholes. Ice shards cracks and scattered across the pier.

“Here it is,” said Ditte, standing up. She tapped her wand on the wall of the hut and the cushions, carpet and tapestries rolled away into nothing and the cold once again took over the space.

“Here it is,” repeated Erebus as he stared at the ship in wonder and apprehension.


	3. The First Lesson

The gangplank slammed down on the pier and a stern looking man strode down. He was perhaps in his forties with greying hair in a military cut and close-fitting black duelling robes.

“That’s Professor Gewäsch,” Ditte whispered to Erebus as they stood together on the little islet in the middle of the frozen lake. “He teaches Technik.”

“Technique? Like wand technique?” Erebus whispered back as he watched the imposing man descend the gangplank.

“No, like, technology. Muggle stuff.”

“He’s the _Muggle Studies_ teacher?!” Erebus exclaimed, thinking of Hogwarts own kindly muggleborn teacher of _Muggle Studies._

Professor Gewäsch pulled out a clipboard and looked down at the two students.

“Ditte Blodmane?” he said, his voice resounding loud and crisp in the cold quiet of the lake.

“Ja, Professor,” said Ditte nodding and walking past him up the gangplank.

“ _Revelio!_ ” the Professor boomed, swishing his wand at Ditte. She turned back at him and scowled, a bright red burn-mark spread across her face. Gewäsch, apparently satisfied with this, let her continue and turned to Erebus.

“Erebus Magnus Flint?” he said.

“Yes, yes, that’s me,” said Erebus, lifting his arm slightly and then putting it quickly down again.

“ _Revelio!_ ” Gewäsch cast his wand at Erebus. Nothing happened.

“It really is me!” Erebus said, a nervous tension in his voice. “I don’t know why anyone would try too pretend to be me. I guess you’re taking precautions, huh?”

Gewäsch just looked at him.

“I guess I’ll just be getting on the boat now?”

Gewäsch kept staring until Erebus hurried up the gangplank. He followed Ditte down some rickety steps into the hull. The teacher followed behind.

Inside the hull was a small gymnasium. Dumbbells were slotted in racks bolted to the floor. Ropes and bars hung from the ceiling. On one end were giant running wheels, as if for some monstrous hamster.

“What’s with all this?” asked Erebus.

“Difficult labour,” said Gewäsch, appearing behind the boy. “At Durmstrang we believe in fitness of the body as well as the mind. Soft Hogwarts children have no place among us. Still. I am willing to see the experiment through. Take this.”

He gave Erebus a small vial of silvery liquid.

“Thanks. What is it?”

“Polyglot Potion, enriched with the memories of a native German speaker. It will help you speak the official school language.”

“Lots of students are taking it,” said Ditte.

“Well, bottoms up!” said Erebus, and with those words getting a painful flashback to the incident. He brushed the memory aside and downed the potion, expecting the worst. It tasted faintly of sausages and cloves.

_NEIN, NEIN, WAS MACHST DU?!!_

He convulsed with a confused and horrible image of himself but much older contorting in pain, shouting out in horror, before a hooded figure wielding a glowing wand.

“Looks like you got a nasty batch there, Erebus,” Ditte said. Her mouth didn’t seem to move the way he expected, and her face was already back to its previous total paleness.

“Can you understand me, child?” asked Gewäsch, also moving his lips strangely.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine, I can understand you. What was that?” Erebus said. The vision had passed and the memory of it was quickly receding like an uncaptured dream.

“Oh that’s good, you have a bit of an accent but your German is passable now,” said Ditte. “You often get those unwanted memories when you drink Polyglot Potion. It’s a big motivation to learn a language! I know three now, Danish, of course, German for, and I’ve been learning English.”

“Miss Blodmane here has begun to understand the lesson of my class,” said Gewäsch with something approaching approval. He looked at her and said, “still I am surprised you returned.”

Ditte took a step towards the gym equipment and began to stretch. “I’m going to be more prepared. Erebus, you can spot me.”

Gewäsch left for another part of the ship and soon the whole craft lurched forward. Ditte held onto one of the wall mounts as Erebus tumbled towards the front of the room. As the ship righted itself, now presumably underwater, though Erebus could see no sign of it as there were no true windows.

By the time he picked himself up, Ditte had already pulled off her outer layers, her fur cloak and the red robes folded neatly on a hobby horse. Beneath she wore close-fitting sportswear. Erebus looked on the contours of her well-toned arms with a mixture jealousy and self-consciousness.

For the rest of the journey, Erebus haphazardly tried to assist as Ditte lifted weights. “Aren’t there spells for this?” he eventually asked, as she lay on a bench, lifting a large dumbbell above her.

“ _Wingardium Leviosa!_ " Ditte said. Nothing happened of course, her wand being still at her side. She racked the weight and sat up. Taking her wand in hand, she swished it at the weight and called out “ _Wingardium Leviosa!_ ” once again. Now the weight hovered up.

“A witch as a witch is only as good as the magic at her disposal. If you want to be able to fight, you can’t rely on it for everything. Everyone knows that’s where Voldemort went wrong.”

The actions of Voldemort, a most powerful (and now most dead) dark wizard, took up a disproportionate amount of History of Magic classes at Hogwarts. The minutiae of the battles was a common conversation topic, except back at his two homes where Erebus’s mother forbade all such talk, and Erebus’s father was too eager for that sort of talk so Erebus avoided it.

“Voldemort was as evil as you can get,” he said. “Literally everything he did was wrong.”

Ditte grinned. “You’re going to have an interesting time at Durmstrang.”

“Is it true they teach you the Dark Arts there?” he asked.

At this Ditte laughed. “Do you mean offensive spells? Of course! Or do you mean soul corruption? Splintering, diluting and warping oneself? Of course!”

“Really?!” Erebus said. His mind flashed to images of his grandfather’s dark mark bared on a moving photograph on an old copy of _The Daily Prophet_ stashed in his father’s attic.

“We study Pataphysics. If you don’t know that tearing apart your soul will destroy the _you_ part of you, then you might be tempted to it, like that Voldefool.”

The boat suddenly pitched upwards. Ditte pulled Erebus onto the bench and the pair of them held on as the boat hurtled up out of the water.

The door to the deck sprang open and water dripped down. Erebus carefully climbed up the slick deck, pulling his case behind him. The sky was now a black canvas smeared with countless stars, brighter than Erebus had ever seen before. From the deck he could see he was in a caldera, a mountaintop lake surrounded by a high ridge on all sides. And there, nestled in the mountainous rock, surrounded by high fir trees, was the squat castle of Durmstrang.


	4. Durmstrang by Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our hero speaks with a goblin rebel, learns about Durmstrang's unique educational system, and receives some confusing advice.

The boat glided across the caldera to dock at the shores beneath the castle. Erebus clambered gingerly down the gangplank. On the shore, a rough dirt path wound up through the rugged woodlands to the castle. Ditte followed shortly after, now fully dressed once more, her red wand drawn, and her eyes cast with suspicion at the trees before them.

Professor Gewäsch walked close by. “Follow me.” he said. “Both of you.”

They strolled up into the woods. The trees stood tall and silent before them. The path opened up into a grassy clearing, in the the centre of which was a vast fairy ring. The white mushrooms gleamed in the moonlight. A twig snapped.

“ _Lumos!_ ” Ditte shouted, and the clearing burst into light.

A portly boy dressed in bright red robes stepped out from the woods. He had a long black beard at odds with his youthful face.

“Ditte Blodmane, I challenge you!” he bellowed, his robes fluttering as if there had beena strong wind. “Name your contest!”

“Jump into the lake, Aladár,” Ditte said, rolling her eyes.

“Do you forfeit the challenge?” Aladár asked, a slight note of hope in his voice.

“Mr Dankó,” interrupted Professor Gewäsch. “You should know that Miss Blodmane has yet to be sorted into her division.”

“Everyone knows she’ll be down to Tin,” Aladár shot back.

“What everyone knows is neither here nor there. Come along.”

Erebus and Ditte followed Gewäsch up to the castle. The path widened and the trees thinned to reveal the brick walls of the castle. The main building stood perhaps four stories tall from which jutted seven towers at seven different heights. Silhouetted by the moon for a brief moment was a rider upon a broom, flying between the towers.

The trio walked up an external stairway cleaving close to the stone and entered into a doorway on an upper floor. There seemed to be many entrances to the castle at all levels.

“I thought you were supposed to be big on security here?” Erebus said quietly.

“If anyone unauthorised were to even find the place,” Ditte replied, “I don’t think a big door or a moat would stop them.”

The entered into a dark stone corridor, illuminated only by the light still glowing from Ditte’s wand which cast dark shadows up the walls. The far end of the corridor suddenly flashed with bright bolts of green magic which finished with the sound of shoes running across stone.

Gewäsch led the around a corner and up another flight of stairs until they arrived at a dead end at the top, marked only by a portrait of a rather elderly looking goblin.

“The headmistress, if you please, Urg,” said the Professor.

“Bugger off you wizarding bastard,” spat the picture of the goblin along with a few more choice words.

“I’ll incinerate you,” said Gewäsch, quite matter-of-factly.

“Good! Please do!” the goblin said, his voice steeped in resentment. “Be glad to be free of this prison.”

Gewäsch sighed and raised his wand. He stared intensely at the painting and wordless flourished it. The goblin in the painting took on a glassy-eyed appearance and reached behind himself to pull a previously obscured lever. The wall next to the painting folded in on itself revealing a small antechamber and a door beyond. Gewäsch led the others inside.

“Wait here while I deal with Miss Blodmane,” Gewäsch said, opening the door. Erebus was left in the antechamber. He poked his head round to look at the portrait. The goblin inside shook his head vigorously and his eyes lost their white sheen.

“What are you looking at?” Urg barked.

“I’ve never seen magic being used on an enchanted painting before like that,” said Erebus.

“I’m not just any painting am I? I’m bleeding Urg the Unyielding. Terror of the Ministry.”

“The Ministry of Magic? In Britain? What are you doing here?” Erebus asked, wondering how a British goblin painting came to be in Scandinavia or Switzerland or wherever Durmstrang really was. He faintly realised that he had stopped speaking in German to the goblin.

Urg curled his lip. “I could ask you the same thing. Shouldn’t you be learning your wand magic in Hogwarts?”

“I’m a transfer. I’m here on exchange,” Erebus said.

“Ha!” A wicked grin spread across Urg’s face. “I thought British wizards were cruel. But they have nothing on the buggers here. You’ll see.”

The door opened behind Erebus and with a final look at the decrepit goblin, he turned and entered the room beyond. As he did the wall rippled behind him, closing up.

He walked into a large chamber lined with books that stretched to the ceiling far above. Unlike the headmistress’s office at Hogwarts, there were no paintings of any kind. The only possible decorative object was a large orb in the centre of the room which seemed to be the only source of light. A desk stood near the orb, at which sat a woman who was leaning back in the chair, her feet upon he desk. There was no sign of either Ditte Blodmane or Professor Gewäsch.

The woman was short and looked perhaps in her mid-fifties. She wore comfortable looking green silk robes. She had dark brown skin and tight black curled hair that spilled out above a green bandana. A book of runes was resting on her lap.

“Erebus Flint. I am your new Headmistress, you may address me as Professor Xoog. Or Miss, if you prefer.”

“Yes Miss,” said Erebus, pleased that in at least one area the school did not differ from Durmstrang.

“There are few rules at Durmstrang but they are rigorously enforced with punishment or expulsion,” Xoog continued, sitting upright in her chair and placing the book upon the desk. “Note that as a part of the terms of our exchange agreement, if you are expelled from Durmstrang you will be expelled from Hogwarts. Is that clear?”

“Yes, quite clear,” Erebus gulped.

“Rule one: do not kill, banish, dismember, render permanently insensible or otherwise destroy another student’s capacity as a witch or wizard.

“Rule two: obey the instructions of members of staff.

“Rule three: wear the correct school uniform for your division.

“Rule four: do not bring the school into international disrepute.

“Rule five: follow the dictates of the Challenge System.

“That is it. Are we clear?” Xoog looked at Erebus as he tried to process what the rules could mean.

“What’s the ‘Challenge System’?” Erebus asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

“At Durmstrang, there are no examinations and all classes are elective. Your final grade will be based on the division you are in at the year’s end. At the end of each term you may either go up or down a division.”  


“Like in quidditch!” said Erebus.

“In a way,” said Xoog. “Over the course of the term you will earn points for beating other students within your division in magical challenges. They will challenge you, and I suggest you challenge them in return. While you are engaged in a challenge no one else can challenge you, and the one who is challenged sets the challenge. This competition between students is the entire drive behind the school. It is the reason you will attend to classes and improve.”

Erebus was struck dumb. He was imagining the imposing students of the school fighting him. While the rules prevented them killing them, there was no mention of grievous harm.

“There are seven division, in order: Lead, Copper, Tin, Mercury, Iron, Silver, and Gold. New first year students are usually placed in Lead or Copper. Students who choose to remain at the school longer than five years usually hope to reach Silver or Gold. I have seen your report card from Hogwarts and have decided to place you in Tin.”

“But Miss, that’s not very high!” Erebus said. “I’m a fifth year.”

“You will find the standards here are more exacting than at Hogwarts. If you believe yourself to be worth more then show it this term. Now, if you will make your way to the Tin dormitory, you will find a uniform awaits you.”

She knocked twice on her desk and the floor disappeared underneath Erebus. He hurtled down a chute in utter darkness. He slid upwards momentarily and then shot out into the air above a courtyard. He hit the floor hard and only just managed to roll out the way as his case hurtled out after him to land with a thud on the grass where he had just been laying.

Around him he could see the red brick walls with their glass crittall windows. The only illumination was the moon, and a soft enchanted glowing from various windows.

A tall boy walked up lugging with a broom over shoulder and a large suitcase floating beside him. An tawny owl sat upon the case and observed the scene. The boy reached down and helped Erebus up off the floor.

“I don’t recognise you, so you must be my replacement, from Hogwarts!” the boy said with good English. He offered his hand. “Todor Krum.”

“Erebus Flint,” said Erebus, trying to match the much bigger boy’s firm handshake.

“I’ve wanted to go to Hogwarts ever since I was a small child.” His voice was deep and enthusiastic. “My uncle Victor told me so much about it. Is it true there are dances and beautiful women and you don’t have to fight anyone?”

“Um, there are balls occasionally,” Erebus considered. “The girls are okay I guess. And yeah, fighting is definitely discouraged. Banned even.”

“I’m going to have a wonderful time!” Todor grinned.

“Um, is there anything I should know?”

Todor considered a moment. “Yes, don’t specialise in just one thing otherwise you’ll never beat anyone else. But you do need to be the best at one thing otherwise people will be able to beat you at your own challenges.”

“So don’t specialise, but do specialise?”

“There’s almost always at least two students that will go up, it depends on the division size. So don’t be afraid to make blood pacts. But only make a pact with someone who’s any good.”

“Wow, that’s a lot to take in...” Erebus said.

Todor slapped him on the back as he continued on walking. “I’m sure you’ll be fine! Don’t take advice from paintings, don’t trust Danish girls, and keep your wand close to you at all times.”

Before he disappeared completely, Erebus remembered something. “Where’s the Tin dormitory?”

“Third smallest tower!”

And with that, Erebus was left alone in the courtyard. He wasn’t allowed to wander Hogwarts at night, and here he was, lost in Durmstrang by moonlight.


	5. An Unexpected Crowd

The stairs to the third smallest tower at Durmstrang are behind a tin-coloured tapestry on the third floor. Erebus had to walk up and down the corridor looking for the entrance three times before a painting decided to helpfully point it out to him.

“Your pacing is keeping me awake!” said a rather sleepy woman from the sixteenth century wearing a fine oil painted dress. “Go through the tapestry and go to bed!”

Erebus obliged, pulling back the tapestry and walking up the stairs. He stepped nervously. He wondered if they had prefects at Durmstrang. A prefect showed everyone to the Hufflepuff dormitories when he was a first year. They even gave everyone hot cakes in the shape of badgers to welcome them to the House. Here there was just a cold stairwell.

As he trudged up, he thought back at the promise Hogwarts had once held for him. He’d never had many friends growing up. His father’s business left them very isolated, and his mother lived around muggles who he was told to stay away from. When he was sorted in Hufflepuff he had hoped to finally have the fast friends he had always read about others having. But he was awkward and shy and didn’t have much interesting to say and the other children formed their cliques without him. He wasn’t loathed, and he was able to take part in group activities, but he was nobody’s best friend.

While no one may like me here, at least I’m saved from embarrassment in coming here, he thought as he opened the door at the top of the stairs. The door had a tin handle which chimed a distinct note as he turned it.

“WELCOME!” Everybody shouted, as he walked through the threshold. Streamers were let off, bubbles blew everywhere and confetti rained down from the ceiling. There were perhaps thirty young people in the common room to greet him, all dressed in the same red robed uniforms. He noticed for the first time that each of them had three tin-coloured bands on their sleeves. Most of the Tin division were about his age, some a bit younger, a few much older.

Ditte Blodmane appeared out of the crowd and helped take Erebus’s case and set it aside. She stood beside him and addressed the others.

“Everyone, this is Erebus Flint. He’s come all the way from Hogwarts to replace old Glum Krum. Can we have a round of applause?”

Almost everyone obliged with a clap. Erebus noticed Aladár Dankó, the boy who had challenged Ditte in the woods, roll his eyes and disappear up to the dormitories.

“Thank you! Thank you everyone. It’s so nice to be here,” said Erebus, and he realised as he looked at the unexpectedly warm faces before him that he really meant it.

“Let me introduce you to the Tin students,” said Ditte. “Some of them are still here from the last time I was in this Division.”  
  
“I’m not going to be able to remember everyone’s names,” Erebus protested, but Ditte was insistent. He went around shaking hands and exchanging names with everyone in the room. As he predicted, he wasn’t able to keep hold of many of the names. There were a few who stood out.

“I’m Cassiopeia Rosier,” said a girl with a British accent with long black hair and heavy eye-lids. She struck Erebus as being about his age, but he was very conscious of the fact he was a head shorter than her. “It’s good to meet another member of the Sacred 28, this far from home.”

She flashed a smile as she tried to bond with Erebus at being from a pure-blooded family. He smiled and nodded. He was saved from coming up with a proper response by the approach of the oldest person in the room, a young man around the age of 20 with lank greasy hair and terrible skin.

“This is Himmel Drom,” Ditte said. “He’s been in Tin the longest.”

“Longer than anyone in the history of the school,” said Himmel. “I got sorted straight into here. Spent a year climbing up, a year climbing down, and I’ve been here nearly seven years now.”

“They’re not letting you graduate?” Erebus said, imagining being stuck at school for so many years.

“It’s more that they only kick you out if you’re still here after ten years,” Himmel said. “I’ve not finished everything I want to do yet.”

“And that’s everyone that I know,” said Ditte with some finality. “And I make it my business to know everyone. So that means… who are you?”

She swivelled towards a waif-like girl blending into the stonework near the fireplace, one of the few students shorter than Erebus in the room. The girl shifted into view, and looked on the others with eyes with deep red irises.

“This is Zornitsa, our newest Tin,” said Himmel. “She’s the first student to be sorted straight into this division since I was!”

“You must be quite the witch!” Erebus remarked.

“I got Aladár and Todor this week, Himmel last week.” she remarked. “I’m out of this Division at the end of this term.”

“You let this kid beat you, Himmel?” said Ditte. “She’s like almost half your age.”

“What can I say,” Himmel said with a big grin. “She’s going to go far.”

As the welcome party began to disperse and students went off to bed, Erebus ended up sitting in a voluminous sofa by the fireplace. Cassiopeia the blood-supremacist insisted on sitting next to him, Ditte sat across on a very fluffy armchair that occasionally scratched itself with one of its many legs. Himmel sat cross-legged on the floor and waved his wand idly at the fireplace which burned with an enchanted green flame. Everyone had a glass of sweet wine provided by Himmel, something that the prefects would never have allowed in the Hufflepuff dormitory.

“My parents refused to send me to Hogwarts. Too many mudbloods,” said Cassiopeia. “How can you stand it, knowing they’re diluting the pool?”

“No offence but you sound like my dad,” said Erebus, loosening up a bit.

“ _Accio Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy,_ ” Cassiopeia called out, casting her wand about. There was a yelp from upstairs as a huge black book hurtled down from above, flew across the common room to land at last in Cassiopeia’s lap.

“This is the perpetually revised edition,” she explained, opening the huge book on her lap so that it opened onto Erebus’s lap as well. “Let’s see. Ah! Here we are. Flint. There’s you, Erebus. No siblings. That’s a shame. And your father is Marcus. Grandfather Jacobus, outlived by your great-grandfather Tartatus. Very strong lineage. Mother is Mauve Tripe. That’s curious...”

Erebus slammed the book shut. “Let’s not bore everyone with all that,” he said.

“Hogwarts has mandatory classes doesn’t it?” Himmel interjected. “I’d hate that myself. Haven’t gone to a class in three years.”

As he drank his wine, Erebus wondered what Himmel did with his time if he wasn’t ascending the divisions in the Challenge system or going to classes.

“I don’t recommend Himmel’s approach,” said Ditte. “Oh! Let’s help you pick your classes. What did you do back at Hogwarts?”

Finally Erebus felt he was on firmer footing. “I’m going to take nine O.W.Ls. Let’s see, there’s Charms and Transfiguration, obviously. Herbology and Astronomy... Defence Against the Dark Arts is mandatory...”

“They teach defensive spells separately to offensive spells?” queried Himmel, clearly surprised.

“They don’t teach the Dark Arts at all!” said Cassiopeia, curling her lip in disgust. “We cover it all in Duelling here.”

“What about the other four classes?” Ditte urged.

“Well I also had to take History of Magic and Potions,” Erebus explained. “I chose to take Muggle Studies and Arithmancy.”

“Why would you want to learn about Muggles?” asked Cassiopeia.

Before Erebus could answer, Himmel remarked, “Arithmancy is an intriguing one. You must be pretty sharp to have kept with it.”

“The predictions stuff is fun when it works but it’s my second worst class,” Erebus admitted. “I’m literally Dreadful at it and Potions. Anything with exact amounts, I always get muddled up.”

Ditte took a small sip of her wine. “You must be good at something to be sorted into Tin and not Copper or even Lead,” she remarked.

“I’m Outstanding in Transfigurations!” Erebus admitted with pride. “I managed the _Raven to Writing Desk_ in my first year.”

“And what about in Charms and that Defence class?” Himmel asked. His wine sat untouched by the fire.

“Uh, Exceeds Expectation and Poor,” said Erebus. “But I’m hoping to improve on that. Everything else is Acceptable.”

“You don’t sound like a very good wizard,” Cassiopeia said bluntly.

“I try so hard, but I’m just bad at exams,” said Erebus.

“I can only imagine how pointless they would be,” remarked Himmel.

Ditte pulled out a timetable from the folds of her robe. “Let’s help you pick your classes then,” she said, scanning the list of courses. “Let’s see… Tin Transfiguration is probably below your level, but if you’re that good at it, you should take Alchemy instead. And Duelling. That’s mostly charms.”

“There’s no Charms class?” asked Erebus.

“Utility spells aren’t taught after the Lead and Copper Intro classes,” Ditte explained.

“If you liked Muggle Studies, you’ll love Technik,” Himmel says.

“I should probably also try some things they don’t teach at Hogwarts,” Erebus said.

“Then take Pataphysics and Legilimency,” said Ditte.

Erebus thought he probably _should_ take some of the same classes as he did at Hogwarts if he wasn’t to fail his OWLs completely upon his return. But the thought of skipping Potions and Arithmancy was entirely too tempting.

“Sounds good. Let’s see that list,” he said. He looked down at the courses and counted what he’d already agreed to. “Where’s the History of Magic? And what’s Ghoul Studies?”

“The last History teacher— ” Ditte began

“—Ugh, don’t take Ghoul Studies,” Cassiopeia interrupted. “It’s all dull theory. They don’t even teach you how to make ghosts at Tin level.”

“Ooh, they don’t teach Wandlore at Hogwarts,” said Erebus as he looked further. “And I suppose I should keep taking Herbology and Astronomy. So that’s… Alchemy, Duelling, Technik, Pataphysics, Legilimency (whatever those are), Wandlore, as well as Astronomy and Herbology. That’s only eight. Is that enough?”

“Infinitely more than I could be bothered with,” Himmel shrugs.

“Eight is plenty,” says Ditte. “Durmstrang will stretch you, but you don’t want it to snap you.”

“I did nine last year but I’ve dropped down to seven,” says Cassiopeia. “There’s just too much to do with all the Challenge prep.”

Erebus nodded and half-way through had to stifle a yawn. “Maybe I should be getting some rest. It’s been a _very_ long day.”

The others pointed the way to his dormitories and Erebus lugged his case up. “ _Lumos!_ ” said Erebus, lighting his way up the dark stairway. He entered into a round room as directed. There were half a dozen single beds and Erebus found the only unoccupied one. He dressed into his pyjamas and slipped into the hard bed. Remembering Todor Krum’s advice, he slipped his wand underneath his pillow.

In the dark, he heard Aladár Dankó’s voice.

“I bet you think they’re your friends now,” he whispered. “But they’re not.”

“They seemed pretty friendly,” Erebus said.

“I bet they asked you what magic you were good and bad at,” Aladár continued.

“How did you know?”

“At Durmstrang everything is done for an advantage. They were just scoping out your strengths and weaknesses for when you challenge them. You’re not going to last long here.”

In the darkness, Erebus stared up and reconsidered his whole evening.


	6. Transmutation

“Alchemy is the study of transmutation towards perfection.”

Professor Schimb stood in a classroom lit by the morning sun sparkling through high castle windows. She gestured towards a diagram chalked on the blackboard. Schimb was a woman of exact proportions, her age indeterminable, her hair and robes perfectly positioned with nothing out of place. Her classroom was arranged likewise, exactly placed desks in a semi-circle around her, each one with a clear view of the board.

Erebus sat at a desk one over from Ditte. There were seven other Tin students and none from any other Division. Aladár Dankó sat at the far end and glowered at the others with suspicion.

On the blackboard, each of the alchemical metals is listed in a series. Lead is first, then each of the others were listed in sequence until Gold, and finally the Philosopher’s Stone, as the ultimate culmination. Gold perfected beyond Gold.

“Last week we started on Lead into Copper,” said Schimb. “I would like a repeat of this. Draw your circles!”

Erebus tried to copy the others as they took out chalk. “ _Penna Increto!_ ” he chanted to change his quill to a stick of chalk. As a matter of pride he never carried more than piece of stationary with him when he could transmute it so ably. He tried to copy Ditte’s motions as he drew a circle on his desk.

“Why would transfiguration need a holding circle?” he whispered to Ditte.

“If you have a question, say it out loud so the whole class can benefit!” Schimb called out. “Mr- what was your name boy?”

“It’s Erebus, Miss. Erebus Flint.”

  
“Mr Flint here wants to know why we use a circle,” Schimb said to the class before launching into a lengthy digression.

_“This is because transmutation of the elements is not the same as transfiguration...”_ she began.

Erebus finished his circle and took a lump of lead and places it within.

_“...Transfiguration deals in phenomena, in changing how a thing appears in this world. Transmutation is _noumenological__ _...”_

_He looked over at Ditte who set her wand to hum first the tone of lead and then the tone of copper._

_“..._ _It_ _gets at a thing’s essence, the thing-in-itself...”_

“Do that again,” he asked. Ditte obliged and her wand sang the two tones. Searching back in his mind to last year’s charms class, Erebus got his wand to echo the sound.

_“...This is why you can’t untransfigure a lump of gold back into silver after transmuting it...”_

He doesn’t see a change but he sensed that the circle was humming with magic directed towards the lead.

_“...The magical energies required to transmutate must be contained and refocused back into the thing...”_

Ditte waved her wand about the circle while it continued to make the two tones. Erebus matched her movement.

_“...Otherwise you will merely end up with a semblance, as with the Gold of the Leprechauns...”_

“ _PLUMBAEIRIS!_ ” Ditte cried out. Across the classroom other students echoed her spell. Erebus follows. “ _Plumbaeiris!_ ” he said with quiet intensity.

The professor stopped talking and watches as circles grow with copper light across the room. Erebus stares in wonder at his own circle which glowed so brightly he could no longer see the lead within. Other circles throughout the room grew dim and within could be seen many copper lumps. Several of the students were disappointed to find that their copper was only half transmutated and they were left with an alloy of the two metals.

“What you have ended up with, Mr Dankó, is Molybdochalkos,” said Professor Schimb. “It is progress, but it is not perfection.”

Erebus barely took it in as he gazed on at his own circle in confusion. The light within only grew. “Uh... Miss...” he said before being cut off by the light exploding out of the circle and engulfing the entire room. A strange shudder shook through his body as the light subsided. Then everything was as it was, except wherever there was lead in the room, it was now copper.

“Your chalk circle was deficient Mr Flint,” Schimb said pointing to a line slightly awry on his desk.

“Did I really change it all?” Erebus asked, looking about the desks of others. Aladár scowled at the now pure lump of copper before him.

“Unfortunately yes. Which brings this part of the lesson to an end, as you have transmuted all my lead supplies,” the teacher replies, pointing to a pile of copper ingots upon her desk. “Class, I will now proceed with this warning about out-of-control transmutation. Many an alchemist has got this far in their progress without trouble, but has fallen foul during the next steps. Trace amounts of copper are necessary for human vitality, while lead, as the most base of materials, is not. If any of you were suffering lead poisoning, rest assured Mr Flint has kindly saved you of a debilitating fate.”

She flipped the black board and pointed to a splayed out diagram of a man, the elemental signs of the metals drawn about his orders.

“Copper deficiency, however, is not to be sought, and is akin to an iron deficiency in its weakening effects. The foolish alchemist might not immediately notice the damage replacing all their copper with tin would cause.”

Erebus started hurriedly writing notes. Teachers rarely talked about health or biology at Hogwarts.

“Tin is not greatly poisonous, and a lack of copper is not felt immediately. But when they replace all their tin with mercury! That is usually when the ambitious but incautious alchemist will begin to sicken. It won’t kill them immediately, of course, but repeated experimentation after their copper levels are repleted steadily grows the amount of mercury. And if they manage to transmute further, they are still not safe! I invite each of you to spend the rest of the class reading up on the perils of heavy metal poisoning.”

After receiving a protection circle diagram to master by the next class, Erebus filed out of the classroom with the others. Aladár walked out scowling beneath his unnatural beard. It was then an impulse came over Erebus. Aladár was clearly an inferior wizard, his transmutation was poor and he lost a challenge to an 11 year old...

Swivelling on the spot, Erebus turned to Aladár and said, “I challenge you!”

The other students stopped to look at the pair as they faced off.

“Very well. Meet me in the Uncallow Hall at midnight. We will duel to disarmament.”

“That’s a very short prep time,” said Zornitsa, appearing in the crowd even though Erebus didn’t recollect seeing her in the lesson. She pulled out a volume impossibly big for her small robe pocket: _A Challenger’s Rules of Engagement_. She began flicking through it. “Normally it’s at least a week.”

“Twelve hours is the minimum for a duel,” Aladár insisted. He turned to Erebus. “Steel yourself Flint, I will not be defeated by a soft beardless Hogwarts boy.”

When everyone else had dispersed, Erebus was left in the corridor with Ditte.

“I didn’t expect you to challenge first,” she said. “Are you good at duels?”

“I’ve never duelled before!” Erebus said, the colour draining from his cheek as it sunk in what he had signed himself up.


	7. The First Duel

Erebus spent a Herbology lesson squeezing bubotuber pus, something he had thought he had left behind in his third year of Hogwarts. He tried to stay awake in the Astronomy lecture on mystical significance of Iron on Mars. He was used to having to memorise star charts, but this class seemed to be more like astrology. In the hallway between class he spotted sight of close-knit pairs of students from other Divisions who paid him little mind. At lunch, he joined Ditte and Cassiopeia back in the common room, where bowls of salad and walnut soup appeared for them on the sideboard.

“Is Aladár good at duelling?” Erebus asked, before taking a tentative spoon of the grey soup.

Ditte frowned at her soup. “He isn’t terrible.”

“Oh but he is!” said Cassiopeia. “He’s such a fraud. He wears that ridiculous beard to make himself seem like the next Merlin, but he’s never got beyond Tin.”

“I just wouldn’t underestimate him,” said Ditte.

“I know the Disarming Charm. Everyone at Hogwarts has to learn that one,” said Erebus. “Surely I just have to be quicker than him at casting.”

“He’ll shield against it,” said Cassiopeia. “He may be a terrible wizard, but he’s not _that_ terrible.”

“Then I don’t know what I’ll do,” said Erebus, despondent.

“Perhaps you’ll learn something this afternoon that will help,” said Ditte.

***

A large part of the afternoon was dedicated to the Duelling class. Everyone in Tin (except for Himmel Drom of course) stood alongside one wall of the Uncallow Hall. It was a long chamber with rough stone walls pit-marked with burns and craters from countless duels. A fresh layer of sand and straw coated the floor. Whether to soak up blood or provide a softer landing, Erebus couldn’t be sure. In the centre of the room was a huge heap covered wholly in thick velvet cloth.

A thick mist spilled out through the cracks of the heavy oak door at the far end of the chamber. The mist spread in front of the assembled students and slowly coalesced into the form of a hunched old woman with a face thick with warts.

“Welcome delicious children to another lesson where I will help you make yourself more difficult to defeat,” the old woman croaked.

“Everyone says Professor Kjerring is really a hag, but I don’t believe it,” Ditte whispered.

“Today you will be practising the Tongue-Tying Curse. Useful if you want to leave your victim alive but incapable of casting a verbal spell or crying out! I’ve assembled some erklings to help us.”

Professor Kjerring waved her wand and the velvet cloth slipped down, revealing a pile of cages in the middle of the room. Inside each was a three foot high, sharp-nosed, bitter little beings that Erebus immediately recognised as the wilder relatives of the house-elf. They started crying out in a cacophony of voices, clamouring for release.

Kjerring waved her wand and one of the cages lifted into the air. Then she croaked “ _Mimblewimble!_ ”and inside the erkling went silent as its tongue curled up in its mouth.

“Now, you will try!”

Each of the students took a cage. Some carried theirs off of the pile, others levitated one like the teacher had. Erebus was last and picked up one of the cages. It had thin metal bars and was much heavier than it looked. Inside was a blotchy purple erkling. She was wearing a ragged dress and she looked out of the cage with big brown eyes.

“Let me out!” the erkling snapped.

“Why don’t you just apparate,” Erebus asked. “Can’t all you elves do that?”

As if to reply, the erkling shook the bars of her little cell.

“You don’t smell like the others,” she said wrinkling her little nose. “I know what you are wizard. Let me out or I’ll tell them all!”

“You don’t have to do that!”

“AHEM!” the erkling shouted. “THIS WIZARD IS A—”

“ _MIMBLEWIMBLE!_ ” Erebus cried out, his wand outstretched. Cold air bursted forth and the erkling’s tongue swelled, elongated and tied itself in a knot.

“—mphh!”

“I’m so sorry,” said Erebus. He looked around to see if anyone had seen. He could see Aladár trying to pull his beard back out of the cage where it was being pulled by a particularly irate erkling. Cassiopeia was expanding on how she couldn’t wait to try the spell on her own house-elf. Ditte was already trying out the counter-curse on her erkling. Erebus sighed in relief.

Zornitsa appeared at Erebus’s side. “What was that erkling saying about you?” she asked.

“I, uh, I mean...” Erebus started.

“What’s wrong? Did your tongue-tying backfire?”

Erebus was saved by Professor Kjerring calling the class to attention.

“Ahh, the sound of muffled tongues!” the teacher croaked. “Of course, any witch worth tussling with will be able to cast silently. But this is always useful against children and muggles... Now you’ve all had a little practise, it’s time to spar! I want you all to try adding Tongue-Tying to your repertoire.”

The whole division began to split themselves off into pairs. Erebus was looking around in confusion when Aladár approached.

“Time to see what you’re made of!” he said.

“Are you sure…?” Erebus asked. “Won’t you find out in about ten hours time?”

“Form up! It is time to duel!” Aladár cried, his robes billowing of their own accord. He held his wand high and stepped back across the hall. Already around them, stray spells were scattering from the others who had begun. Aladár shouted out, “ _Mimblewimble!_ ”

Erebus dove to the ground. His whole side was bruised but his tongue still felt normal. He shot back the tongue-tying curse from where he lay. Aladár moved to cast a shield-charm but he was too late. He shook his head, his long beard curling unnaturally. From his mouth there was only a half-choked guttural sound. Erebus picked himself off the floor and started dusting the straw and sand off of his robes.

The next thing he knew, his wand had flown out of his hand to scatter half-way across the room. Aladár was staring intently at him, wand pointed straight. He had cast the Disarming Charm silently! Erebus began to run towards his wand, but it was already floating towards Aladár’s hand.

“Hey give that back!” Erebus demanded. He ran up to to Aladár who had slipped the stick of pine into his inside-robe pocket.

“Mhmmph,” said Aladár, shaking his head.

“You dirty cheat. Professor! Professor!” He called out to Kjerring who wandered over.

“What is it, child?”

“Aladár’s taken my wand!”

“Then I suggest you get it back,” she said.

He tried reasoning with the boy. “I’ve got to share a dorm with you. You don’t want to make an enemy of me.”

“Mhpph!” Aladár replied, showing no indication of any desire to return the wand.

By this time a small crowd had gathered as the others began finishing their sparring.

“What about our duel later?” Erebus asked.

“You’ll forfeit if you don’t have a wand in the first minute of it,” Ditte told him.

In desperation Erebus grabbed Aladár by his lapel and tried to take back his wand by force. No sooner had he touched the robe when it a wave of invisible force burst from Aladár. It knocked Erebus clear off his feet and half-way across the room. The air was knocked from his lungs and everything ached.

Ditte gave him a hand up. By which time, Aladár had evidently made his exit.

“And here I thought nobody would want to steal a troll-wand,” Ditte said with smile. Erebus was in no mood to joke.

“I can’t believe him! How dare he!”

“You should be glad it wasn’t the formal duel,” said Ditte.

“And I can’t believe he can cast silently!” Erebus continued, starting to pace. “They don’t start teaching us that until 6th year at Hogwarts.”

“Never mind that,” said Ditte. “You did well until you let down your guard. You just need another wand for the duel, and then you can get your own one back off of him.”

“Perhaps I could borrow one?”

“Out of the question. But perhaps, now just perhaps, you could _make_ one...”


	8. Wandlore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our hero has a flashback with Professor Longbottom, schemes with a goblin and discovers how to make a wand.

Wandlore was not subject at Hogwarts, though wands were necessary in most lessons. Erebus hadn’t thought too much about his own wand until three years ago when Professor Longbottom had asked him to stay a bit later after a Herbology class.

Erebus was helping the professor untangle a pile of earmuffs in preparation for mandrake root extraction. He was trying to pull the earmuffs apart from one another with his hands.

“I wouldn’t have used an Untangling Charm when I was your age either,” said Longbottom.

“I know it, it’s just—” Erebus began.

“—easier without magic?” Longbottom finished. “In my first years at Hogwarts, I’ll admit I’d often avoid casting charms. I was pretty dreadful at wand work.”

Erebus was surprised. Neville Longbottom was a hero of the Second Wizarding War, he defeated one of the horcruxes of the dreaded immortal Lord Voldemort. Erebus assumed he must have been brilliant from the beginning.

“What changed, sir?” he asked.

“Like you, I didn’t get my first wand from Ollivander’s wand shop,” said Longbottom.

Erebus froze. He hadn’t told anyone about his wand.

“I recognise the signs of a hand-me-down wand when I see it,” said Longbottom. “I used my father’s wand until it was broken by a Death Eater in my 6th year. Wands have something of a will of their own, they tend to remain loyal to their original owners. As I became more like my father, braver, more self-assured, the wand worked a lot better for me. Whose wand was yours?”

“It was my great-grandfather’s,” said Erebus. “He died when I was little. Apparently he hadn’t left his chair for twenty years by the time he snuffed it. Maybe the wand wants me to be lazier.”

“If you intend to keep using that one,” Longbottom said, "I think you might want to find out what kind of man your great-grandfather was to know what your wand is looking for in you.”

Now, three years on, Erebus knew a little more about his great-grandfather Tartarus. What he knew especially was how disappointed Tartarus would have been in Erebus for losing his wand.

He entered the wand workshop with Ditte.

“Oh.” said Ditte.

“Is it supposed to look like this?” asked Erebus.

The workshop was made up of a series of long benches. On one side of the room, where there had once been a series of drawers and cabinets was only a mess of charred wood and twisted metal. The whole room smelt of smoke.

On the wall next to the door, on the opposite side to the burnt furnishings, hung a sooty picture frame showing the scattered remains of a riverside picnic. The usual subjects of the painting had clearly fled. An elderly goblin climbed out of a weeping willow in the picture.

“One of the Coppers couldn’t handle their dragon-heartstring,” said the goblin. As he drew closer to the front of the picture, Erebus recognised the goblin as Urg, the goblin from the painting in front of the headmistress’s office. “When I smelled the smoke I came over hoping it would spread, but no such luck.”

“Were all the cores destroyed?” Ditte asked. “And the wandwood?”

“What’s it to you?” the goblin spat. “Don’t you both have some erklings to go torture?”

Erebus looked down at the floor, ashamed at what he’d done, though it had felt necessary at the time. Ditte turned to him.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I could get more wandwood from the forest and show you how to make a wand that will hold up long enough to duel, but you’d still need a magical material for the core of the wand.”

Erebus considered his predicament for a moment. At last he said, “I think I know where I can get the core.”

“Great! I’ll meet you back here in an hour,” said Ditte. “It’ll take us at least six hour to make the wand, but we should have it done in time for the duel.”

Ditte was halfway through the door when Erebus asked her, "Why are you helping me?"

"Durmstrang chews students up and spits them back out," said Ditte. "The only way through is if you have people at your back. You'll have my back, right?"

"Of course!" said Erebus, swelling with pride at the thought at finally having a firm friendship.

"In an hour!" she cried before setting off at speed down the hallway.

Erebus took a moment to compose himself. "Hey Urg," he said.

"That is my name," said the goblin. "What are you going to do to it?"

"Whereabouts are the erklings kept?"

"Why? Do you want to go finish them off?" Urk sneered at him.

"No!" said Erebus, horrified. "I'm going to free them."

"Really?" said Urg, his voice dripping with scepticism. "Why would you go and do that?"

"It's not right them being caged up. And maybe in exchange they'll give me one of their hairs. Back home we don't even allow house-elves to be enslaved anymore."

"Curious. And have they let goblins use wands yet?"

"Well, no, but..."

"Then there is still much to fight for." The pair of them fell silent as the goblin paced back and forth in the painting until at last he said, "The erklings are in the the basement beneath the lead tower, in lead cages. It prevents them from disapparating. A paltry child wizard like you won't be able to break the charms to open their cages."

"Not without my wand first," Erebus said glumly. His plans were unravelling before him. He needed a wand to get the material to make a wand so he could win the fight to get back his wand.

"And even if you did get them out," said Urg, "the erkling's would sooner eat you than remove one of their hairs. They're not known for being reasonable! Feisty buggers!"

Erebus slumped down and sat on the floor, despondent. The goblin kept pacing, grumbling to himself in a low voice.

"Ah I can't believe I'm helping a bleeding wizard," Urg said at last. He shuddered. "If you swear to free the erklings when you have a wand again, then I'll tell you where you can get a real core. If you don't come through, I'll tell all all the paintings that you were kicked out of Hogwarts for streaking."

"I wasn't kicked out!" said Erebus, turning red. "But how did you..."

"I hear everything in this damned place," said Urg. "Including what Xoog told all the teachers in the staff room."

Erebus tried to push out the thought of all the teachers knowing about what had happened in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. "Well I accept," he said.

Urg grinned a long, sharp, toothy grin. "Excellent. There's a stuffed jobberknoll dangling from a chandelier in the Arithmancy classroom. Its tail feathers should serve to make a very subpar wand."

Erebus didn't need to be told twice. He shouted his thanks sprinted out of the ruined workshop and down the corridor and two flights of stairs, along the undulating bridge and up through a portrait gallery populated by portraits of students who had died at the school. Finally, somewhere near the Silver tower he arrived at the Arithmancy classroom which was, thankfully, unlocked.

Slipping into the dim classroom. On the board was a complicated formula which Erebus vaguely recognised as the method for divining coincidences by applying the number 23. Just as Urg had said, hanging from the chandelier were several stuffed birds, one of which, small blue and speckled, was clearly a jobberknoll. The only thing Erebus knew about them is that before they died they would sing out backwards every sound they'd ever heard. He only knew that because it was an important plot point during an oft-repeated episode of The Moonlighting Auror, a convoluted mystery series his mother enjoyed listening to on the Wizarding Wireless Network.

There was no rope to lower the chandelier, it would ordinarily be lit with magic after all. With some effort, and taking most of the time he had remaining to him, Erebus was forced to pile all the tables in the classroom into a rough pyramid in the centre of the room. Standing three layers up on his tip-toes, he was at last able to snatch free the bird. He was in a hurry, so he left the tables where they were and ran back to the workshop.

There he found Ditte frowning at one of the benches which now held a very short thick stick. The bark was grey and covered in lichen.

I tried to placate the bowtruckles with chocolate frogs but it didn't work and all I was able to do was snatch this tiny branch before they could gouge my eyes out. It's good quality sycamore. Did you get the core?"

"I've got some jobberknoll feathers," said Erebus, laying out a handful of blue feathers plucked haphazardly on the way.

"I've never heard of anyone making a jobberknoll wand," said Ditte as she sorted through and selected the longest, fullest feather. "But the feathers are used in truth serums, so they're definitely magic."

“So how do we do this?” Erebus asked.

“We have to fuse the core with the wood. If that works, it comes alive and acts as a conduit for power. We’d also usually clean it up, carve and polish it, put a whole load of protective enchantments on it but we won’t have time for all that.”

Ditte passed the tiny stick of sycamore to Erebus along with the blue feather.

“Wrap the feather around the stem. Close your eyes. Hold it all there in place. Breath! Now try channelling some of your power to the wood.”

“Don’t I need a wand for this?”

“You don’t need a wand to make a wand, that’d be circular. No just focus. The materials _want_ to fuse. Just focus.”

Erebus breathed in deep and focused his mind on the scratchy lichen, the light heft of the wood, the softness of the feather. When you cast a spell, there’s always a brief moment of anticipation and then release between forming the thought and unleashing the magic. Here this moment stretched out for long minutes.

“Okay it’s happening,” said Ditte. “No don’t open your eyes! You’ve got to keep this up. It usually takes hours and hours unless you’re used to doing it. If you lose concentration, let your mind wander too much you can muck it up and the wand will be subpar if it even works at all.”

Patience was one thing Erebus had. Every time his mind started to wander he thought about getting his wand back and turned his attention back to the mild tug of potential he was feeling towards the wood and the feather. As the time went on the feeling grew stronger and he became lost in it. He barely noticed when Ditte’s hands clasped his around the wood. He could feel his own magic meet her own and merge at the wand.

His eyes burst open as a great white light filled the room. It glowed intensely from he end of the wand. The stick of sycamore looked much as it had, only now the lichen on it was faintly blue. The feather was nowhere to be seen. The only light was from the wand and the through the window he could see night had fallen.

Ditte appraised the wand. “Sycamore, five inches, jobberknoll feather core, and still looking like a stick.”

“I’ve never seen anyone use a wand this small,” said Erebus. “This is ridiculous.”

“You don’t have to use it for very long. Give it a try!”

Erebus held out the wand. It barely poked out from between his fingers. Where it had been as unyielding as any other stubby bit of wood, now it was fused with the feather core it was lighter and incredibly pliant. He didn’t want to risk it, but Erebus was pretty sure he could now bend the two ends together should he wish. With the end still glowing, Erebus swished the tiny wand and said “ _Lumos Maximus!_ ” and the light grew more intense.

“It works!”

The light faltered and then extinguished itself. Erebus tried to cast the spell again and while he could feel the flow of magic as normal, the wand did nothing.

“I spoke too soon,” said Erebus, that all too familiar sinking feeling overcoming him.

“Let me see,” said Ditte, lighting up her own wand. As she cast the spell, the tiny sycamore wand copied it and lit itself up again.

“It works but it’s very contrary,” said Ditte. “This might be why nobody uses jobberknoll cores.”

A cuckoo sang out from one of the pockets of Ditte’s robe.

“You can worry about it latter,” she said. “Because your duel’s going to start in fifteen minutes!”


	9. The Uncallow Hall

Erebus burst in to the hall out of breath, the stubby sycamore wand held tight in one hand. Across the stone floor of the hall stood Aladár Dankó. He was leaning against the wall in his long red coat, stroking his beard and clearly trying hard to look like he wasn’t trying hard. On one end of the room there were stands for watching, half filled with students. Most of Tin were there along with some students from other divisions and even a handful of teachers. There was Professor Kjerring, the Duelling teacher. She was exchanging words with Professor Gewäsch, the stern Technik teacher who had taken Erebus to the school.

Kjerring stood up and croaked, “The duellists are here and the hour arrives!” Her voice was amplified across the hall. “When the clock chimes 12, then—”

DONG! A chime rang out across the hall. Gewäsch summoned forth a great shield to protect all on the stands. Erebus had hardly had chance to notice when a green hex swirled overhead. The duel had begun!

Aladár was striding towards Erebus, swishing his wand and calling out spells. Erebus was caught on the backfoot, dodging away. “ _Protego!_ ” he called out, calling up a shield. A beam of crackling yellow bounced off, only for the shield to dissipate.

Erebus scowled at his wand and tried to retaliate. “ _Expelliarmus!_ ” he cried, but it bounced off of Aladár’s own shield. Erebus desperately tried to follow it up. “ _Mimmblew—_ argh!” He was half-way through casting when he had to jump out of the way of another of Aladár’s hexes.

_If only I can just have a moment to think straight._

Erebus pointed his wand at the floor. _“Lapis Mensa!”_ he called out. He regretted that his charms weren’t up to scratch, but he was still good at transfiguration. A huge stone flagstone raised itself up to form a solid table and Erebus crouched behind it.

“You’re pathetic!” called out Aladár. “Come out and face me! I thought you Hogwarts students were supposed to be brave.”

“That’s Griffindors you’re thinking of!” Erebus shouted back. Hufflepuffs weren’t necessarily cowards but they did try not to be reckless.

Aladár’s boots clicked across the flagstones towards him. He flicked his arm over the top of the table and shot another disarming curse blind. Aladár started to laugh. “Is that all you have?” He was getting closer. Now just a few paces away.

“ _Nebulus...”_ Erebus whispered, pouring out a thick fog from the end of his tiny wand. The fog was much more thick than usual but it only poured out for a few moments before the wand got bored of the spell and spluttered out. It was enough though. He vaulted over the table out of the fog and landed right before Aladár. He thrust his wand towards the other boy and it began to be repulsed by Aladár’s shield.

His mind cleared and he cast a spell he had perfected a few years ago. He had used it on himself often enough when he wanted to sit in the common room but avoid having to look like he was sitting on his own.

“ _Insella!”_ he shouted, the transfiguration passing through the shield which had, after all, been primed against curses, hexes and jinxes. Aladár stumbled back, and flailed his wand towards Erebus but as he did, his arm grew to twice the size and his robe turned into plush velvet. He fell on the ground with a loud clack as his two human legs disappeared and were replaced with four wooden ones.

“What have you—” Aladár began before his head turned into a large back cushion, his beard rolled up to become an antimacassar and his voice became completely muffled. There was much clapping and cheering from the gallery.

Erebus stood and examined his handiwork. Where once a young man has stood, now sat a rather plump armchair. He prodded the armchair cautiously, testing the stability of the spell. The little wand launched itself from his hand and disappeared down the back of the cushions, as if on its own accord. Panicking, Erebus shoved his hand behind the cushion, trying not to think too much about what part of Aladár’s anatomy is might correspond to. He pulled out a slim vial of black, viscous liquid which he tucked in his pocket before digging further. At last he clasped the familiar wood of a wand. He pulled it out and was relieved to find it was his own original pine wand.

“Have I won? Are we still duelling?” Erebus asked the crowd.

Professor Kjerring, her voice still amplified, croaked back, “Aladár Dankó has remained transfigured long enough without resuming the duel. The win goes to Erebus Flint!”

The crowd cheered again and a swell of pride came over Erebus. He had done it! He had won his first challenge! He was on his way up! And, for the first time ever, he thought he might know what admiration felt like.

The teachers left along with most of the students, leaving a handful of Tin known to Erebus.

“Congratulations on your win,” said Ditte, leaning over to inspect the armchair that was Aladár. “I think this is rather an improvement.”

Cassiopeia was less impressed. “You didn’t even try a proper curse. There’s no rules against using Crucio here, you know.”

Barely the height of the back of the chair, Zornitsa stepped out from behind it. “I thought it was quite clever. You played to your strengths and cast a spell he wouldn’t have seen coming.”

“What happened to the wand we just made?” Ditte asked.

“It was so fickle,” said Erebus, “I’m happy to be done with it.”

“They do say sycamore wands get bored easily, but this was something else,” she said.

“Hmmmph?” asked the armchair.

“Oh!” cried Erebus, prodding the cushion with his wand and saying the incantation again. The chair folded forwards, the cushions withdrew, the antimacassar fell on the ground, and two human legs replaced the four wooden ones. In moments, Aladár was standing there in almost one piece. On the ground, where the antimacassar had fallen, was his long black beard. His chin was now smooth once again, and he looked much like a normal boy.

“That was a cheap trick!” Aladár was furious. “I’ve half a mind to challenge you back straight away. You only seem to know two charms and you can’t even cast them right and yet you have the audacity to turn me into furniture!”

“Hey I won fair and chair,” said Erebus, trying not to laugh.

Aladár scowled back at him. “And I don’t know how you got another wand so fast, but it’s mine now.” He patted his side, and then, keeping his gaze fixed on Erebus, he walked sideways back out of the hall.

“I _really_ don’t want to go back and share a bedroom with that guy,” said Erebus.

“He wouldn’t try anything there,” said Ditte.

“He can’t you mean,” said Cassiopeia. “Wizards and witches cannot fight, steal, or cast a spells on one another within their division rooms. It’s to stop us all incapacitating each other for a cheap victory.”

“If you say,” said Erebus. He was unsure as he headed with them back to the Tin tower. Exhausted from his long day of lessons, wand making and duelling, not to mention all the running up and down flights of stairs, Erebus plodded up to his room. Aladár was already lying in bed, turned away from him.

Erebus dressed into his pyjamas and slipped into bed. He was lying in the dark, the scenes of the day playing through his mind when Aladár spoke to him with a voice that sounded on the verge of tears.

“It’s alright for you,” he said. “You get to go back at the end of the school year. Tell all your jolly friends how well you did against the evil Durmstrangers. But it’s not a game for me. I have to live here. I have to try and get beyond Tin when it’s all rigged against me. I can’t go back down Copper. I won’t. I’d sooner leave than suffer this endless nightmare.”

As Aladár sobbed into his pillow, Erebus drifted guiltily into slumber.


	10. Pataphysics

Erebus had never seen a homunculus before he attended his Pataphysics class. Simply known as the Little Tutor, it was a clay man about a foot high, dressed only in a faded smoking jacket. It carried in one hand a clay wand that was apparently just for show.

The Little Tutor only met students on a one-to-one basis, and due to not really understanding the challenge system, he was the only teacher who would teach any material to any division. But given that the class was almost all theory, there were rarely any challenges issued by the students which drew on Pataphysics alone. Erebus was allocated a slot early in the morning on his second day in. He was still tired from the late night before, so he took some pep powder he still had stocked in his belt of spell components.

A little bit too pepped up, Erebus jittered his way through into the Little Tutor’s office. There was a long couch like you might see in a psychiatrist’s office, attached to which was small flip down table for note taking. Opposite, on wide pedestal was a tiny desk and behind that desk was the clay teacher. Erebus took a seat in the chair and the lesson began promptly.

“You are a new student,” the clay figure said in a strange hollow voice. “Please state the name you wish to be referred to.”

“Uh, Erebus. Erebus Flint.”

“I heard that as Uh Erebus Erebus Flint. Is that correct?”

“Just Erebus!”

“Very well Just Erebus. I am the Little Tutor. I am the physical proof of the value of learning Pataphysics . In our classes I will teach you everything my creator taught when he was a teacher at this institute.”

“Who was your creator?” Erebus asked, though knowing full well he’d be unlikely to have heard of any former Durmstrang teacher.

“I will not tell you who created me. That knowledge has been removed from me. Now, Just Erebus, I will attempt to assess your current state of knowledge so that we might be efficient with your limited lifespan. Tell me, what do you think Pataphysics is?”

Erebus tried to think back on the brief conversations he'd had with Ditte about the subject. “Uh, something about souls? Why creating horcruxes are a bad idea?”

“I have judged that the best place to start this class is…” The clay figure stalled for a moment. There was a faint, hollow ticking sound for a few moments before it continued. “...the very beginning. Pataphysics is the study of what lies beyond metaphysics. It is the study of the underlying structure of magic itself. And yes, it is the study of the wizard’s soul and how it can be copied, split or merged and the concordant perils. In this class you will learn the theory of how self-portraits may be created, and should you continue your studies for some years, you may even learn how to create homunculi like myself.”

“So it’s not about horcruxes?” Everyone at Hogwarts learned of how the dreaded Voldemort had split his soul into phylacteries known as horcruxes in order to attain immortality. As he had been defeated, it turned out he would have lived much longer living as a regular wizard.

“The theory of horcruxes is on the syllabus,” replied the Little Tutor, “but is only taught after the student has been made clear of the foolishness in creating them. Now, let us begin. Magic is not a logical thing but it is not wholly without structure, indeed...”

Erebus furiously scribbled notes as the homunculus introduced him to the basics Pataphysics. His head was swimming with new concepts when he finally left the class. Over lunch of stuffed grape leaves, Ditte and Himmel, the oldest student, quizzed Erebus on his understanding of this new subject. Ditte had just come back from a run and was dressed for it, though even her shorts and t-shirt has the Tin emblem on them. Himmel was wearing a bulky one-piece over-suit and a bulbous glass helmet sat on his lap.

“So if I’m getting this straight,” said Erebus, trying to interpret the hastily written scrawl of his notes, “when a new spell is created, it ties the spell effect to a spoken incantation, which then creates a pathway of magic that anyone can then access? What does that even mean?”

“Magic is ancient, right?” says Himmel. “Most magical discovery, almost all of new potions, just uncovering the weird effects inherent in magical beings, materials, astrological conjunctions, all that, right?”

“Uh… right?” said Erebus, not entirely sure what was right.

“But new spells are created all the time,” Himmel continued. “Any wizard worth their salt will make a spell or two in their time. Some make loads.” Erebus knew Himmel had used a German idiom which had translated in real time into the English “worth their salt”, which was still confusing to reflect upon. “When those spells are created, that’s the wizard extending their magic will, just like the magic you must have done as a child before learning. But they tie that will to a new word, to a series of wand gestures, to a deed that needs doing, or a combination of magical materials. It depends on the spell. But then, once you’ve done that, any wizard can access the spell. Once you’ve beaten a path to new possible state, anyone can follow.”

“Huh,” said Erebus. “But if it’s any old incantation, then why are most spells in cod Latin?”

“It’s definitely _not_ any old incantation. The words have to have the right power and that comes from the meaning already tied up in them.”

“Connotative residuum,” Ditte said.

“So using a root language like Latin is usually necessary,” said Himmel. “But if you were in, say, Chad, you’d be using mostly Afrasian roots.”

“Comparative language spell casting is basically the only reason anyone in their right mind would want to study at Beauxbatons,” said Ditte with a strong air of derision.

“What about when you sort of smush spells together? What’s going on there?” Erebus asked.

The others looked at him blankly. Erebus tried to mime smushing the spells together but it wasn’t clarifying in the slightest.

“So let’s say you wanted to modify a Growth Charm, completely hypothetically here...” said Erebus. “but say you wanted to use it on yourself safely and have a bit of longevity to it, so you focus the effects on the self with a bit fluxweed?” The others continued to look on in puzzlement, so Erebus barrelled on. “But also, you want the effect to be bounded, like you don’t want to just grow, you want to just be the same height as others, so you take the linking part of the Switching Spell’s incantation...”

“Either you’re amazing at deconstructing transfiguration, or you’re talking complete nonsense,” said Himmel.

Erebus’s mind flashed back to the growth incident in the Great Hall. He turned red involuntarily and decided not to change the topic.

“I’ve got to do something tonight,” he said. “If this were Hogwarts it’d be super forbidden, but the rules here are just about not killing each other or embarrassing the school. Any chance either of you would...”

“Help you out?” said Himmel. “Sorry kid, it’s a important conjunction tonight. I’m not leaving the roof.” With that he got up and put the huge glass bowl helmet over his head, gave the other two gloved thumbs up and wandered off.

“What are you planning?” Ditte asked after Himmel had left.

“Well first I need to get into the basement of the Lead tower,” said Erebus.

All the colour left Ditte’s face and her eyes widened. “I’m sorry I can’t go there. And if you value your life, you shouldn’t either.”

“Why not?”

“Erklings,” said Ditte, shuddering. “Last year a Gold student, an honest-to-goodness _Gold_ , one of the best in the school, went into the basement. She was after Erkling blood for a potion. They only recovered her boots!”

“I’m not going to steal blood. I was going to let them free,” said Erebus.

“Why?!” Ditte was aghast. “You know they eat children, right?”

“Well, still...”

Ditte was firm. “It’s been nice knowing you Mr Flint. I wish all the best in the afterlife and if you come back as a ghost I look forward to telling you I told you so to your face.”

Glum, dejected, and still digesting the unfamiliar Bulgarian food, Erebus walked down the stairs of the Tin tower on his way to his next lesson. By the tapestry entrance, he heard a voice behind him.

“I overheard what you’re going to do.” It was Zornitsa, the youngest student in the division. Even in the gloom of the stairwell, her eyes were clearly red.

“And you also want to tell me I’ve got troll brain?” said Erebus.

“No.” she said. Her voice was quiet but intense.

“Well what?” asked Erebus.

“You’re doing the right thing and I want to help.”


	11. The Danger of Experimentation

As Erebus walked with Zornitsa to their next lesson, Zornitsa helped him come up with a plan.

“The Lead students all hate me for jumping ahead of them,” she said. “So we’ll have to go at night. I think I know the way...”

They rounded the corner and were confronted by three boys wearing the Tin insignia. Erebus knew he had met them the other night, and he half recognised them from his classes, but hadn’t picked up their names yet.

“We challenge you!” said one of them, a lanky boy with long black hair.

“All three of us, a combined challenge!” said another, short with a very square jaw.

“Name it!” the third said. He had spiked blonde hair and wore the sleeves of his robes rolled up.

Erebus looked uncertainly at Zornitsa. “What’s a combined challenge?”

“You name something challenging,” said Zornitsa, “like swimming to the bottom of the lake and back, or riding a dragon, or turning a mouse into mammoth. If they can do it, they win. If you can’t do, you lose.”

“What makes that a joint challenge?” asked Erebus.

“We get to work together as much as we want, and if any one of us beats you, we all get a point,” said the lanky boy.

“That doesn’t sound very fair,” said Erebus. “You’re just ganging up on me.”

“It actually works out in your favour,” said Zornitsa. “You’re currently on two points for beating Al. You'll make up to six more if you beat all of these chumps. They can only get two points each from you at most.”

“So I can just name anything I know they can’t do and then win?” Erebus reflected on the differences in syllabus between the two schools. “Like, um, I bet none of you can change a hedgehog into a pincushion.”

“Is that your challenge?” asked the short boy.

“It is not his challenge,” said Zornitsa turning to Erebus. “If you say that, they’ll just go away and learn the spell and come back. Say something more vague.”

All through his next class, Erebus mulled over the challenge. Zornitsa sat next to him with her copy of _A Challenger’s Rules of Engagement_ between them. It was his first Technik class, and he barely listened to Professor Gewäsch expound on the different adverse magical reactions experienced with electrical devices compared with cogwork devices. Instead he flicked through the

“And why, Mr Flint, would you not trust a videocamera to record a spell being cast?” the Professor asked suddenly.

“Uh,” said Erebus. The other students looked at him. “I mean, because it wouldn’t work?”

“And why would it not work?”

“Because it uses electricity?”

“And why would the magic interfere with the workings of electricity?” Professor Gewäsch was as insistent as Erebus was unsure.

“I mean, I’m not sure...” Erebus began.

“If you are unsure, rather than wasting our time,” said the professor, “pay attention and learn something. Magic relies on the irrationality principle while electricity relies on rational functioning.”

Erebus scrawled his notes intensely as he tried to soak in the explanations.

In 1917, my father Hans Gewäsch attempted to wield the first and only electrified wand. The wand turned into a bad tempered parrot and my father turned into a fine paste that covered the entire library. Many fine books were damaged irreversibly and I have never been able to eat pâté since that day.

The entire class looked on in shock.

“There are some experiments,” continued the professor, “of which it is best to have an assistant attempt at a safe distance.”

After the class, the trio followed Erebus back to the tower.

“Don’t take too long,” said the spike-haired boy. “It’s no fun to win by default.”

“You can always forfeit,” said the square-jawed boy. “You don’t need to go up a division like we do.”

“Just give up already,” said the lanky boy.

Erebus thought over what he was certain the boys wouldn’t know how to do already. If they’d only just learned the tongue-tying curse, he was certain they wouldn’t know any better ways to silence anything, and Gewäsch’s story of the parrot had given him an idea…

“Okay, it’ll be a transfiguration challenge. What’s the least amount of time I can give you?”

“For something that vague? Seven days,” said the square-jawed boy. “You sure you don’t want to be more specific?”

Erebus liked the sound of a week without being challenged. “No, seven days is good. So I just reveal the challenge on the day?”

“Yeah,” grumbled the lanky boy. “But we’ll be watching you the whole time.”

“Don’t lose your wand again!” threatened the spike-haired boy. Erebus instinctively felt for it in its holster.

For the rest of the day, Erebus was on edge, peering constantly over his shoulder. He spent a Herbology class absent-mindedly harvesting Valerian root. Then another Alchemy class, where Erebus shared Ditte’s book as they studied holding circle patterns.

After he was done, he ran back to the safety of the dormitories. The got back first and the room was empty. The fire was roaring and the dinner table was already set out. He grabbed a bowl of something violet and chewy and sat in an armchair overlooking a window, its back to the rest of the room. From the window he could see the great caldera lake. He gazed out and tried to process the day while eating the unidentifiable food. It had been a long two days and so soon he found himself curling up and drifting off to sleep. He dreamed of the basement full of of caged erklings shrieking out his secrets.

“So when we going to Legilimens him?” said a voice that Erebus recognised as the lanky boy. The moon was now high over the lake and the sky dark.

“After the class,” said the voice of one of the other challengers, the short one. “We need to see whether he can Occlumens first.”

“He barely beat Aladár,” said the third. “We’ve got this in the bag.”

Erebus waited until they had left for bed before leaving the armchair. He looked around the dark room and listened carefully. He heard steps besides him. Turning wildly around, he saw Zornitsa in pyjamas and dressing gown.

“There you are!” she said. “Are you ready?”

“Now?” he said.

“Let’s go free some erklings!”


	12. Lead in the Basement

Standing at the top of a cold, dark stone stairway, illuminated only by the tip of his wand, Erebus and Zornitsa paused.

“You don’t owe me anything and I don’t owe you anything,” Zornitsa whispered. “Everyone’s going to be partnering up. I’m not partnering with anyone who’s not on their way up.”

“Fine by me,” Erebus whispered. “Let’s just get on with this.”

The pair of them tiptoed down the stairs. The castle creaked. The light from Erebus’s wand started to dim. They came upon a large oak door. Erebus peered through the keyhole.

“I can’t see anything on the other side,” he said.

“ _Alohomora!”_ said Zornitsa, waving her wand at the door. Nothing happened. She pulled at the handle but it wasn’t moving.

“I think I can remember some other opening charms,” said Erebus.

“No need,” said Zornitsa. She slammed her tiny fist into the lock. The oak wood cracked around it. She hit it again and the whole lock tore through the door and dropped out on the other side.

“Wow.” Erebus was stunned by the display.

“I took a strength potion earlier just in case,” said Zornitsa. Erebus couldn’t think of any potion that would also protect her knuckles, but he decided not to press her on it.

He pushed the door open and the pair of them walked into the basement. Inside was a long dark brick-lined room with a low ceiling. Banded along the walls and ceiling and across the floor, were strips of lead. In the centre of the room was a huge cage with thick bars and wire mesh. Branching off of the main cage was a warren of smaller cages. These cages could be separated, closed off or taken away. Inside the cage huddled the mass of erklings. Most were sleeping, huddled under rags. Some were drinking from water bottles or eating from bowls of scraps.

As Erebus and Zornitsa walked closer they saw pockmarks and scorches in the floor and ceiling. Stacked along the walls were various crates stacked with old vegetables. Everywhere there was broken furniture and in one corner leaned a mildewed painting of a ruined castle. The erklings started clamouring and waking each other up when they saw their would-be rescuers approach.

Erebus tried an opening charm on the cage but it had no effect. Zornitsa leaned down to bend the bars but the erklings tried to bite her fingers.

“Ow! Quit it!” she said, nursing her hand.

“You’re not getting our blood!” said one of the erklings. “We’ll get yours!”

“I don’t want your blood you ungrateful little creeps,” she said, kicking the cage. “We’re trying to get you out of here.”

“I’ve got an idea,” said Erebus. He pointed his wand towards the cage, took a deep breath, and chanted, “ _Plumbaeiri_ _s!”_

The room was filled with an intense copper glow. Erebus could barely make out the end of his own hand. The glow lasted for a long moment, so long he began to wonder if the effect were permanent. But then it faded and everything was as it was. Except that all the lead in the room had changed to copper including the cages and the banding on the walls and ceiling.

“That was amazing!” exclaimed Zornitsa, before turning to the confused erklings. “Okay you all can disapparate now. The lead has gone!”

Tentatively, the erklings began to concentrate and one-by-one they popped out of the cage. They didn’t get far as their powers were blocked by the walls themselves.

“There must be lead even deeper in the stone,” said Erebus.

Pretty soon the pair of them were surrounded by all the erklings. They were beginning to stretch out and look around. Erebus spotted the erkling with the brown eyes who he had tongue-tied the other day.

“You!” she said. She was wearing the same rough dress as before and he noticed for the first time how long and sharp her claws were.

“I’m sorry about before. This makes up for it, right? You’re all free to go,” he pointed to the door.

“Another wizard trick,” she spat.

“You speak too much, Lizenz,” said a tiny erkling with a missing claw on his left hand. “I’ll have my revenge now!”

He leaped at Zornitsa, razor claws outstretched. She backhanded him with great speed and the little erkling landed in one of the piles of vegetables. Erebus gripped his wand and searched his mind for the right spell.

Lizenz took a deep breath in through her nose and then held up her hand to the others who were eyeing up Erebus and Zornitsa hungrily.

“Wait!” she cried. “My nose _didn’t_ deceive me. These are truly half-breeds. Perhaps they really do mean to free us.”

“Of course they do!” bellowed a voice from the mildewed painting. An out-of-breath ancient goblin was jogging across the parapet into view. It was, of course, Urg. “Run to the door and disapparate, you fools! You’ll be fine when you’re clear of the room.”

The erklings didn’t need to be told twice and swarmed as a pack towards the door. Once they passed the threshold they all popped out of being. Lizenz was the last to go. She turned back at them and said, “If you ever cast a spell on me again I’ll bite out your tongue, and then the rest of you!” With that the closest thing to a thanks Erebus expected, she too disapparated.

Panting and exhausted, Urg leaned against the inside of the frame and composed himself. Zornitsa looked curiously at Erebus as if seeing him for the first time, while Erebus returned the look.

“That erkling didn’t know what she was smelling,” said Zornitsa.

“She was just finding an excuse to save us both,” said Erebus.

“Exactly.” Zornitsa said.

“Come on, who do you think you’re both kidding” said Urg at last. “Trust a wizard to be ashamed of their inhuman heritage!”

“I don’t know what your talking about,” Zornitsa said, turning away.

Erebus felt the shame inside him, as Urg had said. But he also felt the burning need to connect with someone about it. “The… the erkling was right. I mean, I don’t know about you, but I do have… inhuman blood.”

As he said the words, he was overcome with regret. What if she told everyone? They didn’t even allow muggle-borns into Durmstrang, how would they possibly accept someone with his heritage?

Zornitsa looked down at the ground. “I know,” she said. “She was right about me, so I knew she’d be right about you.”  


“No one can know!” they both said at once.

“Shake on it,” said Erebus, putting out his hand.

“It has to be a blood pact,” she said, taking out her wand.

“I don’t know how...” said Erebus.

“Follow me,” said Zornitsa. She took her wand and dug it into the flesh of her palm. “Make the cut.”

Erebus did the same. He focused his mind on he tip of his wand as he pressed the pine into his palm. He tried not to cry out in pain as he drew blood.

“Now, hold it to mine,” she said. “I swear that I will not betray your secrets!”

“I swear I will not betray your secrets!” Erebus vowed as he pressed his wet palm against Zornitsa’s.

Her hand was much smaller than his but he could feel her power and focus was strong. Two drops of blood floated up from them and span around in a tiny orbit before merging together. A perfect vial formed and floated slowly to them. Erebus moved his hand away and felt his palm was healed. Zornitsa took the vial out of the air.

“It is done,” said Zornitsa. “We can speak with each other.”

It was then that she remembered the third person in the room. She held out her wand and turned to the painting, but Erebus grabbed her arm before she could do anything.

“Urg isn’t going to say anything,” he said. “I’m the only ally he has here, isn’t that right?”

The proud goblin looked out of the painting, and, with bitter dejection, said, “Aye. You did the only noble thing I’ve seen this century. And by the sound of it, you both have more in common with me than I’d realised. I’m a half-breed too... I’m half canvas!”

His lame joke cut the tension in the air and Zornitsa lowered her wand. “So…” she said, “what are you?”

The answer was on Erebus’s lips when he noticed a grey mist form about the room. It coalesced into the haggard form of the duelling mistress, Professor Kjerring.

“Well, well, well, children,” she croaked before licking her lips. “I thought I was going to have erkling for supper, but instead I find you two here...”


End file.
